


Departure

by DeerHearted77



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:23:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26497837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeerHearted77/pseuds/DeerHearted77
Summary: McCree and Ashe's relationship was always an on and off thing. However, this time, McCree won't be coming back.
Relationships: Elizabeth Caledonia Ashe & Jesse McCree
Kudos: 4





	Departure

Tears filled her velvet eyes as his broad shoulders cast a dim shadow over her, like a single chimney blackened cloud on a sunny day. His form filled the doorway for the last time. Ashe sprang forward, grasping McCree’s arm like her life depended on it, because, right now, it did. If he walked out that door, she knew she wouldn’t be able to go on. Next to her faithful companion, Bob, McCree was the closest she had to a family, and the only soft warmth she could hold. Fresh linen sheets just didn’t cut it anymore once you’ve had the real thing.  
“I can’t anymore, baby,” he whispered without turning back.  
The tears overflowed like her lipstick stained drinks last time he disappeared out the door. His favorite choice of poison, a few kisses, and a promise after a good time between the silk sheets brought him back, but they both knew it wouldn’t work this time. Three times the charm, but the boy who cried wolf could only be believed so many times before the fangs finally sunk in, and now Ashe’s village was being terrorized by the wolf she allowed in.  
Her ruby cut eyes hardened to glass and shattered into him, making him crash into the wall as a hand clenched around his razor scarred neck. They stood a moment, blood soaked eyes turning his eyes to liquid chocolate. Her hand pulsed as he swallowed. Ashe let her hand fall from his neck and rammed it back on the wall behind her, slamming the wall with such force they heard the sound of glass bursting.  
“You always hurt others when you try to save yourself, Jesse,” she growled.  
“I know. That’s why I belong alone. The last person I wanted to hurt was you, Ashe.”  
“Still a want,” Ashe spat.  
“You know what I mean.”  
“Fuck you.”  
“Not this time, baby.”  
Ashe flew her fist up to connect to his jaw, but McCree knew Ashe more than she knew herself. He grabbed her fist before bone and meat would throb and cause black and blue patterns on his jaw and on her knuckles. A grunt of frustration from Ashe. He ran a rough padded thumb over her delicate knuckles and her tightened fingers wavered and uncurled from their strained form. McCree took this chance to slip his fingers smoothly under her palm and brought her hand to his lips. Cracked, chapped, and sharp flaked lips, but any kiss from him felt better than any form of heaven as long as it was her skin they were pressed up against.  
McCree’s eyes shifted and locked on her tear streaked face as her eyes were glued to his lips on her hand that was turning corpse cold, the only fire being where his lips caressed and blessed her skin. He pulled his lips away as he lowered her arm back to her side. Her arm going down made Ashe’s head move in unison upwards to McCree’s face. He let go and her arm swung a couple inches limply before coming to a stop.  
“I’ll never forget you, Ashe. And maybe, just maybe, we will meet again,” he murmured.  
“If, not in this lifetime.”  
“Bob will take care of you.” McCree circled a cigar between his teeth, pulled his hat down over his eyes, and without moving his hand, turned back to the door and walked out, not another word spoken between the two. It took Ashe a moment to realize he had really left, her heart pounding so loud in her ears that she never heard the click of the door. She squeezed her eyes shut, sure the heart thumping in her ears would pour out blood, but when she wiped her hands over her eyes, her fingertips were smeared black. After this experience, she wouldn’t be surprised if her broken heart rotted her blood to tar.  
Ashe cleaned herself up. A lonely, solo bath with only a towel to hold her was enough to rehydrate her for tears that would later rain over the area in her bed next to her to at least fill the empty spot. She sat on the edge of her bathtub, the light marble not even a competition against her pale white skin. A feature of hers McCree loved. He always told her it really radiated her elegance and innocence. Funny a woman like her could even hold any drop of innocence left after all she committed.  
Ashe let out a heavy sigh that shook her rib cage. Her lungs begging her to let out a few more tears so that they ran over like a waterfall and would dehydrate her body by the morning and she could pass on. Ashe disobeyed. She was strong and wouldn’t give up for someone like McCree. He only held the other half of her soul. No big deal.  
She got to her feet and headed for her bedroom, but before she could step out of the porcelain scenery, she turned her head one last time. She stared into the tub, water empty from the container, but scattered around in the tub and clogging the drain was many long strands of silver hair that would put Snow White to shame. She reached up and fingered her now short hair. She looked in the mirror and winced. It was better this way.  
She turned back to the door and made her way to her destination, however she stopped just outside the bedroom door and her mind flashed back to the image of McCree looming by the front door. She took a few, tentative steps back and like amnesia, she looked left and right in the corridor as though she was looking at it for the first time. She padded bare foot back to the foyer, and stared at the front door, eyes wide like a child expecting Santa. Her eyes darkened each tick the clock made that hung over the oak carved door.  
She continued onward and stood before the door that lead to her study. She reached out an arm and gave the wood underneath her pruned fingertips a light push. The door creaked open and in the dark, four green eyes glowed at her from the floor.  
“Hi, Bob,” she murmured. She flicked on the light switch and before her another stage was brought to life. Bob was crouched on the floor, a dark green dust pan with it’s brush, it’s other half, in his metal clad hands. Ashe’s lips twitched. Was it because the dustpan and brush was too small for a hulking omnic like him? Or was it because even a dustpan could find love that lasted? “Whatcha cleanin’?”  
Ashe walked over and crouched beside him. Bob tilted his head at the mess, blinking. He shifted his head up and looked at Ashe as fresh, hot tears pattered on her knees. With a shaky hand she picked up a sheet of paper that was drowning in an ocean of glass shards. Her tears soaked into the paper of McCree and her picture on their first date. McCree dressed casual as always, a red stained kiss mark on his cheek, but the thing Ashe hated the most was the woman in the picture. A pretty, light blue floral pattern sundress with a sunhat to protect her delicate skin so she didn’t show the world what her blood looked like if the sun shone on it. However, that sun would not be a match against the shining smile that stretched across Ashe’s face in the frame. Her smile so wide, her eyes were almost closed.  
Ashe picked up a shard and with a violent swing and a surprised jerk from Bob, Ashe penetrated a hole straight through her face in the picture. The picture and glass fell to the floor as Bob instinctively snatched her hand and inspected her hand for cuts.  
Ashe threw her head back and started to laugh, akin to the laugh of a maniac, her laughs turning to strangled sobs as Bob pulled her into a hug. She gripped him and for a moment, she was back in McCree’s arms and the smell of him enveloped her, the scent of those damned cigars soaked into every centimeter of her home. The furniture, the books, the carpet, the walls, even Bob’s clothes.  
“We’ll be just fine,” Ashe choked, pulling back from the hug with an eerily calm smile.  
Bob blinked, not sure if he agreed. He looked down at the picture and stared at Ashe’s position in the photo, her head mutilated.


End file.
